


Blind

by haku23



Category: Dark Wolverine (Comics), Fantastic Four (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pheromones, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/pseuds/haku23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny and Daken go out clubbing post-the whole "you should have stayed dead" arc etc. They make out. This is just part of a bigger, forever WIP fic so it comes in in the middle.</p><p>Warning of course for Daken using his pheromones pretty liberally at least at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a bigger fic but I really didn't know where I was going with this so I just figured I'd release it to the wild. I tend to get too wordy when I write Daken to be honest...OTL
> 
> This is supposed to portray a pretty unhealthy relationship so proceed with caution!

He looks over his shoulder and makes sure Johnny watches him go. The woman on his arm follows mindlessly, eyes glazed and glossy lips slightly parted-people, not just women, pose no challenge and so he pulls her onto the dance floor where they become lost amongst the crowd. The music pounds in his ears and chest, rattling his bones but not his resolve as he reels his catch in. She sinks into his arms easily and presses her warm body against his when his hands drop to her hips.

The lights overhead hypnotize with flashes of primary colours and he can almost let himself sink into the same stupor the rest of the dancers enjoy, but he pretends well enough anyway. Johnny hasn’t followed him yet-some sort of assumed courtesy probably-so he lets a tiny measure of control slip from his grasp.

The effect is near immediate, predictable, how others flock to him. He can make them all kill one another if he likes but Johnny would want to stay behind, to investigate instead of going back to Daken’s apartment. He lets them keep their lives and fits his mouth to the closest person to him’s neck. They smell like lust and sweat and cheap liquor and he shoves their lips together next. It’s like a shark’s feeding frenzy with him in the middle, looking the victim while controlling it all. He bites flesh until he tastes blood and they stumble back, finding someone else in the pack to take comfort in.

He kisses someone with bitter tasting lips until they sweeten and his lips are smeared red again, the high from this much control doesn’t near compare to any drug but it will do for now and it will be more than enough to get Johnny to do what he wants.

 She and another follow when he slips through the crush of people and he lets them, lets the three of them into the VIP room where Johnny sits on the ugly black couch with his hands too tight around a bottle. A shame he tries to be so put together because he certainly has a reputation that says otherwise.

“Uh, not that I should talk but…” he stinks of unease and Daken doesn’t soothe it away yet. He should protest a little bit, he should let himself believe that he doesn’t want what Daken can give him for all that he can’t keep his eyes to himself any other time.

There’s no mistaking, with their matching mouths, who has been kissing whom so he pushes her towards Johnny, “Kiss her.”

“What?” his eyes widen like he’ll put up more than the tiniest of protests, “Daken-“

“She’s good at it. I like to share.”

“Look, I-“

So annoying. But he keeps his plan in mind and doesn’t deviate from it. Daken licks his lips and lets a little more of his control slip-not enough to drive them into an orgy but he sees Johnny blink as though trying to clear his head.

The woman laughs, her skirt ridden up to obscene levels after draping herself over Johnny’s lap, “are you Johnny Storm? You look like him.”

“Yeah, uh… What’s your name? Daken she seems really drunk, we should call a cab and get out of here.”

He slides his arm around the other girl’s swaying waist and yanks her close, eyes locked with Johnny’s when he shoves their lips together. Johnny gapes at him, he wants to object further and his uncertainty taints the air like a poison, but he doesn’t look away from Daken either.

A moan escapes his throat and gets swallowed by the woman’s mouth, his fingers digging deeper in to the meat of her ass making Johnny’s tongue quickly glide over his lips. Daken closing his eyes is all the encouragement he needs to rise from the couch and it’s all of two seconds before he feels Johnny’s hands on the back of his shoulders. They skim down the back of his borrowed t-shirt, still unsure but getting more bold when Daken presses back against them. He feels his fingers twitching, wanting to hold on but not daring to, and pulls away from the woman in front of him to turn his upper body towards Johnny.

“Johnny?”

“Is this…okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out which finally gets Johnny to fully hold on, his fingernails pressing into skin left exposed by his jeans falling down his hips.

“You smell really good,” he murmurs, eyes half lidded as he presses his nose against Daken’s neck. He exhales, in too deep now to notice himself drowning. Having Johnny under his control so easily feels like the high only Heat managed to provide him-it’s euphoric knowing he will do anything Daken asks.

Strange how sweat can smell irresistible, how a little push could have Johnny on his knees, it’s almost interesting. “Thank you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” he says on the right side of desperate sounding to get Johnny to push their lips together.

He tastes like top shelf liquor and steadily shrinking anxiety that Daken eases away with tongue and scent. The noise Daken makes isn’t faked; Johnny kisses like he fights, overheated and bold now that his anxiety has been carefully kissed away and commanding enough that it gives a thrill. When he pulls away he licks his lips, keeping the taste of Johnny to himself before turning back to the woman in his arms and keeping her hooked on his line with his mouth and hands. Women taste different from men, they feel different under his palms but he gives this one to Johnny too. Johnny who will do whatever Daken asks of him now, even if he protested before, Johnny who has never been able to say no to him even after everything.

“I want to watch you,” he says low in throat and Johnny doesn’t bother with the introductions before pulling the girl into him. She doesn’t seem to mind the change of scenery, moaning loudly when Johnny’s hands find the back of her neck.

But after a moment Johnny feels the difference. His eyes find Daken’s and then he’s in his force of gravity. It’s only a matter of seconds until they collide and Johnny is hard, he groans through his teeth like it hurts when Daken’s hands find his belt loops and pulls him against him. He feels warm and his hands don’t linger too long anywhere on Daken’s body as though he needs to thoroughly explore uncharted territory.

“We can’t do this here,” he slurs a moment later like he’s drunk off of liquor, his eyes half closed and his body swaying like he dances to the muffled music outside of their private room. Daken nods his agreement.

“I have an apartment…”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

 The taxi ride over passes slowly with how Johnny won’t kiss him in the car, the cloud of pheromones less thick with the cab window open and Daken letting him have a slight reprieve but he watches his hands twitching fitfully in his lap and knows that he won’t have to wait long once they get inside the door.

They make it just inside his apartment before Johnny grabs him and pushes him too hard against the wall, “sorry” he says when Daken grunts and doesn’t sound very sorry at all.

“Johnny I.”

“You never called. You said you’d call and you never called,” he kisses him like he doesn’t want to hear the excuse Daken has on his tongue.

“I tried.”

“Thought you were dead again,” his hands dig in harder to his shoulders as though convincing himself Daken really exists. He presses into it the fingertips while Johnny tries to loosen his hold, trying not to hurt him. “Why’re you such a jerk, Daken? Why’re you doing this to me?”

“It’s in my nature.”

“Shouldn’t have come out with you,” he fixes his eyes on Daken looking desperate for some kind of explanation for his own behaviour, “you mess me up.”

“Aren’t you having fun?” he asks, craving the answer somehow. He needs to know, he needs to hear this and indulge his own masochism-Johnny only likes him because of the pheromones, has only ever truly liked him because he made him, and he needs to hear it. His hands shake with the need, his breath wavers when it leaves his chest and Johnny shakes too even as he grabs Daken’s face in both of his hands.

“You’re just using me. You just want something, you always want something.”

“Then why say yes, Johnny?”

“Because I like you,” he presses their foreheads together, his voice unsteady as he says it.

“Why do you like me?”

He laughs and kisses him instead of answering. He doesn’t know. He can’t give an answer because he doesn’t know and Daken presses on his lower back, pushing them together at the hips and he’s almost hard too now, just the tremor in Johnny’s voice enough to get him halfway there. His muscles tense when Daken’s hand slides under his shirt-trying to will himself not to react something and failing. This is how they are together-trying and failing not to react to the other.

He sends him flailing with a push of his hand a moment later instead of popping his claws like he should-end the confusion, the torment- and Johnny catches himself before he hits the coffee table in the middle of the room. He doesn’t know whether relief or anger burns stronger in him now, “tell me.”

It would be easier if he killed him.

“Why does it matter?”

“It matters. I need to know,” he pours fresh pheromones into the air and Johnny’s mouth hangs open, the light from outside hitting his teeth and eyes and not much else. It reminds him of Mac except without the threat of being eaten or most of the challenge. Mac had never been fully on board with anything; luckily the symbiote made more persuasive arguments than even Daken could but even that took work. Definitely more work than Johnny. Johnny is easy. Johnny is too easy but he pretends this counts as a challenge and forces himself not to wonder why he doesn’t gut him.

“C’mere.”

“Tell me or I’m leaving.”

It would be easier to kill him, to extract some meaning from his death rather than fight with what him being alive makes him feel. He wants to hold him, to cage him and keep him so that no one else can see the light he emits. Disgusting. He wants to kill him and free himself from this hunger that settles like an ache in his bones.

“Don’t go.”

Pathetic. Daken goes to him anyway and fits himself into his arms, “tell me.”

“I don’t know why.”

“Good,” he whispers in his ear. Relief settles over him and he pushes it out to Johnny as a reward but he still hungers, “tell me more.”

“You’re-I can’t depend on you. I never know when you’ll show up,” his hands slide under Daken’s shirt, warm, almost as hot as fire. He chokes on a breath when Daken moves a hand down to his groin, “whenever I need you you’re not there.”

“So then how can you like me?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” he groans, his fingernails digging in enough to hurt distantly, “I just do. That’s how stuff like this works.”

“Stuff like this” as though this isn’t entirely manufactured, but even normal people are good at making up stories and making themselves think things that aren’t true. All they ever really need from him is a little push.

“I tried to kill you,” Daken squeezes too tightly on the flesh in his hand and Johnny yelps, “I could kill you right now and yet here you are. You’re an idiot. Desperate.”

“You’re not gonna kill me.”

“I could.”

“But you won’t.”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

“You don’t know why but you like me too.”

He should let his claws slide free and shove them into him. He should watch him bleed out on his carpet; a corpse and a pool of blood all that Johnny Storm amounts to in the end but he doesn’t.

“You’re wrong,” he snaps and Johnny’s hands smooth over his back gently enough to set Daken’s teeth on edge. He doesn’t want his gentleness but he doesn’t pull away from it.   

“You don’t kill stuff you like. You can stay with us.”

He can almost believe him. His hands both go up to his throat and he wants to wrap them around it and squeeze until he crumples but he doesn’t. Johnny doesn’t know him. Johnny doesn’t know about the blood on his hands or he’s blind to it. He can let him be blind.

“You won’t kill me.”

He wants to. He wants to slice and cut until he’s ribbons of flesh and bone and organs. His hands shake with the need to. But he doesn’t.

He can’t have him if he’s dead, that’s the only reason. “Be mine.”

“Okay.”

It’s that simple and he feels annoyance at how easily he agreed. He tells himself it’s just the pheromones.

He can let himself be blind.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it to the end kudos to YOU haha thank you for reading!


End file.
